Misunderstanding
by OhMyWizardGod
Summary: Albus Dumbledore remembers his relationship with student Tom Riddle and realizes his mistakes in time to save Harry Potter from Tom's misdirected wrath.
1. Into the Pensieve

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or locations in this story.**

**WARNING: This story focuses on a man/man romantic relationship. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**

Albus Dumbledore stood by the ancient stone basin, gazing into the silvery abyss within. Harry snorted and decided it wasn't worth questioning his headmaster's order to dive into the basin, and did so. Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, bracing himself for the onslaught of emotion he knew he was about to face, and then followed. He felt himself falling through the depths of the substance that was neither liquid nor gas, swirling around him in bursts of silver and black.

Finally his feet met the ground and, motioning for Harry to follow him, he strode down a street he had not walked in many years, but had remembered every day of his life. Moments later, a foreboding brick building loomed out of the mist directly in front of them. Dumbledore suppressed a shiver as he followed a younger man, who bore a striking resemblance to him, through the front doors and into the lobby.

"Sir, who is that man?" Harry's question reminded Dumbledore that his student was with him.

"You don't recognize him?" Dumbledore teased with an amused glint in his eyes. "Look more closely and see if you can't tell me who he is."

Wishing Dumbledore could just give him a straight answer for once, Harry looked back towards the man they seemed to be following. Something about the man's stride and his proportions seemed familiar to Harry. When Harry caught a glimpse of the man's face, he had to stifle a gasp – if this man's hair was a little whiter and his beard a little longer, he would look just like…

"It's you, isn't it?" Harry's voice was full of excitement. "We're following a younger version of you!". Dumbledore's earlier amusement vanished, and he seemed more than ever to be an old man. Lines of weariness etched his face and bags were forming under his eyes.

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed, "it's me." Harry hardly had time to ponder the sudden change in his professor's demeanor before the large oak doors in front of him opened to reveal a vast foyer with a black marble desk in the center. Two curved staircases stood like guards on either side leading to the upper levels. The furniture in the foyer was sparse, consisting only of a few spindly wooden chairs on the far side of the hall.

After a few moments, Harry turned his attention to the lady standing behind the desk. He hadn't noticed her at first because she almost blended in with her surroundings – she wore a pale gray blouse covered by a charcoal colored suit and a matching pencil skirt. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a sharp bun that did nothing to flatter her prominent nose and sunken cheekbones. Only her skin was light colored, looking almost like soymilk.

Harry turned to see that Dumbledore was also looking at the woman, but when Harry looked closer, he saw that his teacher's eyes were really somewhere else, lost in memories of a time long before Harry himself had been born.

As Dumbledore stepped through the polished oak doors and into the hall, he was swamped by memories. This was ironic, really, since he was technically in a memory, as was the function of the pensieve, but Dumbledore was remembering much more than just that day at the orphanage.

He followed the younger version of himself in a daze. He barely took any notice of the creaky stairs, the dark hallways, or the noises of rats scuttling around inside the walls. He was deaf to the sound of crying issuing from many of the rooms they'd passed. Finally, he and Harry were following the younger Dumbledore into one of the many rooms that lined the halls.

"Tom doesn't usually have visitors…" said the woman guiding them as she opened the door. Dumbledore froze in the doorway, images and voices crowding his mind as he laid eyes on the little boy who would grow into the man that would change everything. Then the younger Dumbledore spoke.

"Hello, Tom."

Harry stared at his professor, waiting for him to take the lead as the woman stepped out from behind the desk and led the younger Dumbledore towards one of the staircases. The Dumbledore Harry knew, however, seemed to be in a trance, swamped by memories that held roots in this dark, desolate orphanage. Not wanting to lose sight of the man they were following,

Harry gave Dumbledore a nudge and then took the lead himself. Harry kept close to his professor as the woman led them down a gray hallway – there was no color in this place. The floors and walls of the hallway were carpeted, giving the hall a muffled feeling. Still, Harry shivered as he picked up the scuttling noises and sharp squeaks of small rodents crawling through the walls, or the sound of sobbing not quite blocked out by the doors to some of the rooms they passed.

Lost in thought, Harry ran into the younger Dumbledore he had been following. He opened his mouth to apologize before realizing that he had passed right through the man as if he were a ghost. _Of course, _Harry thought, _this is a memory. They can't see me here. _He shook his head, resigned to all the mysteries of his world, and followed the man through the door into one of the many rooms lining the hallway.

While Harry and the older Dumbledore remained just inside the door, the man in the memory settled himself down on the bed across from where a little boy was sitting at his desk.

"Hello, Tom," said the man on the bed. As the boy, Tom, turned to face to man who had spoken, Harry was finally able to catch a glimpse of his face. He had pale white skin with a shock of dark hair. His eyes were deep and mysterious. His features held a maturity and sophistication seldom seen in children.

Harry watched as the man won over Tom's trust (setting fire to a wardrobe in the process), and listened as he explained Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to the young boy. Harry couldn't help feeling a twinge of anxiety – he didn't like some of the things the boy was saying.

"I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt… if I want…". Harry wondered why Dumbledore had ever wanted this boy to come to Hogwarts. Turning to ask his professor, he realized that though they had both entered the same memory in the pensieve, Dumbledore seemed to be lost in another.


	2. Tom Comes to Hogwarts

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or locations in this story.**

**WARNING: This story focuses on a man/man romantic relationship. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." Albus Dumbledore listened from his station beside the stool where students would be sorted as Headmaster Armando Dippet gave the same speech he gave at the beginning of every year. Tuning him out, Dumbledore let his eyes wander over the students waiting in line to be sorted into their houses. His eyes lingered for a moment on Tom Riddle, an incoming student who, until quite recently, had been living in a dark and secluded orphanage. Dumbledore was interested to see into which house Tom would be sorted, although he already had a pretty good idea.

When Dumbledore had visited the orphanage to invite Tom to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Tom had mentioned that he could talk to snakes. This was the ability that made one of the founders of the school, Salazar Slytherin, famous. It was an ability rarely seen even among wizards. Therefore, Dumbledore could safely guess that Tom would be sorted into Slytherin.

Professor Dippet finished his speech and the first student, Filius Flitwick, stepped up and sat down on the stool while Dumbledore set the Sorting Hat upon his head. Dumbledore sighed. Filius was the first student of the evening and he was already proving to be a hat stall.

"Brave, yes, and loyal," the sorting hat murmured. "But intelligent as well, willing to search for the answers to your questions." At least ten minutes later, the sorting hat called out it's decision. "RAVENCLAW!" One student down. Professor Dumbledore tuned out again as one student after another was sorted into their respective houses.

"HUFFLEPUFF! SLYTHERIN! RAVENCLAW! SLYTHERIN! GRYFFINDOR!" About half way through the list, Minerva McGonagall's name was called. Dumbledore set the hat on her head and waited. _Another hat stall_, he thought with a sigh. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, the sorting hat called out, "GRYFFINDOR!" and the table to Dumbledore's left erupted into cheers.

At long last, it was Tom Riddle stepping up and sitting on the stool. Even at the age of eleven, he completed the movement with a grace and detachment that few adults exhibited. The moment the sorting hat came into contact with Tom's smooth, dark hair, it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" Unsurprised, Dumbledore applauded with the rest of the students and staff in the hall as Tom headed for the table to his right without a backward glance.

The sorting ended and Dumbledore carried the stool and hat out of the hall, grateful for the momentary escape from the crowed space. Placing it on a table in the entrance hall for Professor Dippet to pick up at the end of the feast, Dumbledore paused for a moment and pondered the sorting.

_Two hat stalls – Flitwick and McGonagall. They're going to be interesting to teach. And Tom. _Though Dumbledore wasn't surprised by the sorting hat's decision, he had to admit that he hadn't expected the hat to decide so instantaneously. _The had barely touched his hair. It's almost as though he radiated Slytherin. I wonder if that could be a bad thing?_

Dumbledore shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn't become biased against one of the houses, no matter what all the staff knew about the four founders. _Slytherin was the one who wanted to purge the school of muggle-borns, and if Tom finds out about his father, he will be more biased against them to ever before. _

In the weeks that followed, Tom walked through the halls of his new school with a confidence befitting a sixth year. _I hope he doesn't think that his ability to communicate with snakes puts him above the other students, _Dumbledore fretted. Then he took a deep breath. Tom was a talented, curious, cunning student and they were lucky to have him.

Tom had top grades in all of his classes and had managed to impress all of his teachers. Armando Dippet was making plans to recognize him at the end of the year speech as the student of the year. Thanks to Tom, the staff and students were thoroughly anticipating that the house cup would be presented to Slytherin.

Dumbledore had taken an interest in Tom quite early in the year, noticing his knack for Transfiguration and assuming that it was Toms best subject. Upon conferring with his fellow professors, however, he learned that Tom showed the same level of promise in Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Astronomy. In fact, as far as Dumbledore could figure, there was not one class in which Tom _didn't_ excel.

Dumbledore felt strangely connected to Tom, but he couldn't identify exactly what he felt towards the young man. He thought at first that it had sprung from his visit to Tom in the orphanage when the student had been just a little boy, but Dumbledore realized that his feelings ran deeper than a simple shared experience could allow.

Meanwhile, there were several other stunning students in the school at the same time as Tom. Coincidentally, they were the two hat stalls from that year's sorting ceremony. Gryffindor Minerva McGonagall truly was showing an aptitude for and interest in Transfiguration. She was also on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Ravenclaw Filius Flitwick, too, was proving to be an outstanding student. Flitwick's talent, however, seemed to lie in charms. The charms professor could often be heard rambling that Flitwick was the most promising student he had ever taught.

Doing his best to relax himself into a normal routine, Dumbledore struggled not to dwell on his mixed feelings towards Tom. Though he despised himself for it, he was wary of the boy's ability to communicate with snakes. _You are a professor. You should not be biased against any house, student, or special ability that either may posses. _He told himself this repeatedly, but at the same time he was fighting down his passion for his student.

Feeling bewildered by the storm inside his head, Dumbledore sighed and stood up to begin his class.


	3. Heating Up

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or locations in this story.**

**WARNING: This story focuses on a man/man romantic relationship. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**

"Professor," Dumbledore turned, mildly surprised, at the sound of the silky voice behind him. His last class of the week had just ended and he had been about to retire to his bedroom. The voice had come from Tom, a student about whom Dumbledore felt thoroughly conflicted.

"I was wondering if you could teach me how to transform an animal into a water goblet?" Tom continued. "I heard some second years talking about it and it seemed like it would be a useful skill."

Dumbledore pondered Tom's request for a moment. Due to his conflicted feelings, he had been trying to avoid Tom as much as he could. However, Dumbledore could not deny that Tom was an uncommonly talented and inquisitive young man, and he was confident that his student would have no trouble mastering the simple charm.

"Alright," Dumbledore eventually replied. "Did you happen to bring an animal?"

Tom held out a mouse. "I found this scampering around in the dungeons," he explained.

Dumbledore scowled at the thought of rodents roaming the halls of the centuries old center of learning. _I must mention it to Professor Dippet,_ he thought. Focusing once again on the task at hand, Dumbledore set the mouse on the desk nearest him.

"The incantation is _veraverto_," he told Tom. Tom took out his wand and pointed it towards the creature.

"_Veraverto,"_ Tom stated in a confident voice. The creature wobbled and expanded upwards, the lower part thinning out and the upper part rounding until a perfect water goblet stood on the desk before them.

"Perfect!" Dumbledore praised, trying not to let Tom see just how impressed he was. "In all the years I've taught here, I haven't seen a second year perform that transformation nearly as well as you just did."

"I have a great teacher," Tom's eyes gleamed with mischief and he seemed to be struggling to conceal a grin. Dumbledore was shocked to find the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a similar manner.

"You be good now," Dumbledore teased with the same look in his eye. "Remember which animals to transfigure and which ones to leave alone." Tom chuckled, a smooth, rolling sound.

"Not to worry, Professor. I won't go around the school transfiguring my classmates into water goblets, however entertaining that could prove to be."

Dumbledore smiled in earnest now, and nodded to dismiss Tom from his office. He caught himself staring after his student as the young man walked down the hall and shook his head angrily – this wasn't right. He shouldn't – couldn't – feel this way about a student. Not even if the student felt the same way about him.

Suddenly, Dumbledore had an idea. Was it allowed, he wondered, for a teacher and a student to be in a relationship at Hogwarts? He'd never thought about it – after all, he'd never imagined he would feel this way about one of his students. He decided to find out.

On his way to Headmaster Dippet's office, Dumbledore considered what exactly he should ask for. He couldn't tell his boss how he felt, so it would be difficult to explain why he wanted that particular bit of information. Therefore, Dumbledore decided to go for a more general approach. He would ask for the Hogwarts Staff Guidelines sheet that the staff members were shown when they first applied for a job there (although none of them really bothered to read it).

He had reached his destination; a huge stone eagle now blocked his path to the spiral staircase Dumbledore knew to be concealed behind it. He walked right up to the stone creature and stopped directly in front of it.

"Password?" The bored voice rang through the corridor.

"The Three Broomsticks" Dumbledore replied. _If I'm ever headmaster, _Dumbledore thought, _I'm going to make the passwords fun. Maybe I'll even have a theme – like it will always be a type of candy, or something like that. _Dumbledore blinked. _Focus. _He hadn't come to think about passwords.

The eagle slid aside and Dumbledore stepped forward onto the stone staircase, climbing until he reached a jet-black door with a golden knob. He pressed his ear against the door, listening for voices, but heard nothing. He knocked.

"Come in," Professor Dippet sounded relaxed. Dumbledore twisted the knob and entered the grand office. In front of him stood a glass table decorated with instruments he had read about but never seen. The walls were lined with portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses – some waved at Dumbledore, while others continued to doze in their frames.

To his right, a grand oak desk sat on the slightly raised floor. Behind the desk, Professor Dippet was lounging in a high-backed chair, gazing at Dumbledore as he took in the grandeur of the office.

"Is there something you need, Professor Dumbledore, or did you just come here to gawk at my instruments?" Dippet teased. Dumbledore looked slightly ashamed, but the Headmaster's tone was light. "You don't have to look like a puppy caught chasing a cat. It's not like it's illegal to be curious." The Headmaster's eyes were gleaming.

"Actually, Sir," Dumbledore set himself back on track, "I was wondering if I could borrow a copy of the Hogwarts Staff Guidelines?" Dippet looked slightly surprised. "I wanted to read over it. I have some extra time, and it's better to be safe than sorry, right?" Dumbledore was struggling not to sound desperate now.

"Well of course you can borrow it," Dippet replied eventually. "I don't know why anybody would want to read it, but if you want it, it's all yours." He handed Dumbledore a yellowing booklet with bold purple letters spelling out the title.

Dumbledore thanked Professor Dippet and quickly left the office, turning the booklet over in his hands as he headed for his room.


	4. Decisions

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or locations in this story.**

**WARNING: This story focuses on a man/man romantic relationship. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**

It is against the rules of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry set forth by founders Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff, for any staff member (headmaster, professor, librarian, keeper of keys, nurse, or caretaker) to be involved in a romantic relationship with a

student of the school, even if said relationship is desired by both parties.

These hand-scrawled words burned in Dumbledore's mind's eye, leaving his heart torn, broken, and empty. When he'd set forth for Dippet's office that afternoon, he'd been mildly curious. By the time he'd settled down to read the manual, he'd been truly desperate. Only when he finally read the passage he'd been

searching for did Dumbledore realize that he truly wanted to be in a "romantic relationship" with Tom. Like a claw scraping at his already defeated heart, his mind wondered whether Tom would want the same thing.

_It doesn't matter_, he told himself repeatedly. _It doesn't matter what Tom wants, and it doesn't matter what I want_. Rules were rules, after all, and they were made to be followed, not broken. Right? _If it was a matter of saving lives_, he thought, _it would be different._ But this wasn't a matter of saving lives - it was a matter of foolish, selfish desire.

Dumbledore had believed that he'd purged himself of the feeling when he was young. He'd thought, between his plotting with Gellert Grindlewald and the ill fate of his little sister, Ariana, that he'd expressed the maximum amount of selfishness a human could possess in a lifetime. Apparently, he was wrong.

At last, Dumbledore managed to find an ounce of comfort within himself. _At least I'm not acting on it_, he consoled himself. _I may have a selfish desire_, he thought, suddenly determined, _but I will not let it turn into another slew of selfish actions._ Mind made up, Dumbledore retired to his office.

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Tom Marvolo Riddle was lounging on one of the black leather couches that furnished the Slytherin common room. Though his outward projection was one of tranquility and indifference, his mind and heart were in turmoil.

_He's a professor_, Tom's brain pointed out. _There shouldn't be any type of personal connection between you_.

_I know that._ If Tom's heart had eyes, they would be rolling. _I know that, and I don't care! I never thought I could grow to care for someone like I care for Albus, but I have!_

_Professor Dumbledore!_ Tom's brain corrected angrily. _Show some respect. Besides, even if you do... _the voice in his head paused, _love him,_ the voice spat the words with the utmost contempt, _what are you going to do? Go up to him and ask him out on a date?_

Tom snorted at the peculiar thought. But then, his heart taking over again, he realized something. Though the suggestion had been sarcastic, it wasn't a bad one. It would allow Tom to express his feelings, while giving Dumbledore a chance to show whether or not he reciprocated them with a simple "yes" or "no".

Tom made up his mind - he was going to ask Professor Dumbledore out on a date.

**AUTHORS NOTE: I know it was a short chapter - bear with me! I'll be uploading chapter 5 soon. Reviews are appreciated. **


	5. The Journey

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or locations in this story.**

**WARNING: This story focuses on a man/man romantic relationship. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**

A few days had passed since Tom had made his decision to ask his Transfiguration professor out on a date. In this time, the young man had been planning, second-guessing, giving up, changing his mind, making up his mind again, and continuing the cycle. Finally, Tom made a decision: He would wing it.

Acting on instinct alone was completely against Tom's nature, but in this matter, he realized, he had no experience. He was clueless. All he had to guide him were his feelings, and so he would rely on them.

It was 5:45 in the morning. Tom was sitting in the Slytherin common room, knuckles white from gripping the sides of his chair. If he was to visit Professor Dumbledore, now was his chance. None of the other Slytherins had come down from the dormitory yet, so there was nobody to see him leave. Professor Dumbeldore had told his class that he woke at 5:00 every morning, and to feel free to come to him with questions at any time after 5:30.

Though Tom was positive that Professor Dumbledore hadn't had this type of question in mind, he also knew that the older man would not turn him away without hearing him out.

A sound from the dormitories above jolted Tom from his thoughts. However much his mind screamed at him to stay in the chair and rest like a normal student, Tom knew that he had to follow what his heart was telling him to do. As a door creaked open and footsteps echoed down the staircase, Tom stood up and hurried from the main common room.

The Slytherin common room was a strange one. Instead of just having a room, like the other houses, the Slytherin common room could only be reached by navigating a series of eerily lit stone hallways. Slytherins were taught the route when the prefects gave them the tour of the common room in their first year.

The hallways weren't exactly necessary, though. Like the other common rooms, there was a magical entry way through which one could gain access. In the case of the Slytherins, there was a black oak door with a peephole. To gain access, the students had to look through the peephole and say, "Pure-bloods are superior." The door would scan the student's gaze through the peephole, making sure that they believed what they had said. Then, it would swing open and the student would be admitted to the maze.

Once in the maze, any Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw would be immediately lost. Slytherins must memorize the path as quickly as possible if they do not wish to end up lost. Nobody knew where the other paths lead, though there were rumors that one led straight to the Chamber of Secrets. It was rumors like this that prevented the Slytherins from straying from the known path.

After successfully navigating the maze, Slytherin students found themselves in the main common room. Black leather couches and chairs furnished the room. There were no windows, as they were underground. There was a deep green rug spread across the black wooden floor. In the center of the rug was a silver serpent. The design was enchanted so that the snake was always moving, whether in was slithering around the edges of the mat or coiling up in the middle.

Pendant shaped banners hung on the walls, their color matching that of the rug. The banners were bordered by silver, with the serpent representing Slytherin house displayed proudly in the center.

Tom's heartbeat quickened. He had left the main common room just in time. He did not want to be seen – it would be difficult to explain to his fellow students why he was roaming the corridors at such an early hour of the morning.

Tom's footsteps echoed strangely as he worked his way through the maze. Pale, sickly green light barely managed to illuminate the corridors. Tom shivered. This may be his common room, but it was creepy, even to him.

Tom wondered why the sorting hat had placed him in Slytherin. After all, he was brave, like a Gryffindor. His current destination and intent proved that. He was intelligent, like a Ravenclaw. The only house he couldn't see himself in was Hufflepuff. Not that he wasn't loyal and hardworking, but he lacked the patience that seemed to posses many of the students in the house of the badger.

_Perhaps it's because I can talk to snakes? _Tom thought suddenly. He'd never considered that before. The more he dwelled on it, the more likely it seemed. Tom felt angry. _One ability doesn't make me who I am! _

Tom slowed his breathing, trying to calm himself down. There was nothing wrong with being in Slytherin. In fact, being in Slytherin meant being powerful. _Let the Ravenclaws have their knowledge, the Gryffindors their glory and the Hufflepuffs their friends. Someday, I'll rule them all!_

Tom had reached the black oak door. Since he was exiting the common room, all he had to do was place a pale, long fingered hand on the edge of the door and push it open.

Emerging into the dungeons, Tom picked up his pace. He was keen to avoid encounters with any of the professors that could be overly curious as to his intentions. Tom began to climb the moving staircase that stretched from the dungeons to the top floor of the school.

He passed the second floor, where he nearly walked into Minerva McGonagall, a Gryffindor, who had just emerged from the library. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, Tom guessed she'd been there all night. He was grateful for her exhaustion, for it meant that she had no energy left to do anything more than narrow her eyes at him before continuing on towards the Gryffindor common room.

Reaching the third level, Tom turned off from the staircase and into another hall. He passed empty classrooms and a few places where the floor was darkened from people playing exploding snap. Finally, he came to a huge oak door. He opened it and stepped out into the Transfiguration Courtyard.

In the center of the courtyard, there was a large slab of concrete on which an elaborate compass was set. Around the concrete, velvety green grass stretched the length of the courtyard, all the way to the stone walkway where Tom now stood. The walkway wound all the way around the courtyard, with doors leading off of it periodically. One of these doors was the one through which Tom had just come.

Tom followed the walkway around the courtyard until he reached another door, slightly smaller than the last one he'd passed through. This door stood ajar. Inside, Tom could see the rows of desks and cages containing different animals. He caught a glimpse of the chalkboard where Dumbledore magicked the chalk to write the day's lesson plan.

Tom stepped back from the door, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. _This is your last chance to turn back_, he thought. He started to turn away from the door.

_STOP! _his heart screamed. _You've come this far. You have to know. _Slowly, Tom turned around again and opened the door a little wider. Seeing the classroom deserted, he stepped inside and crossed to yet another oak door. A plaque on the door read:

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
****TRANSFIGURATION DEPT.**

Tom's breathing quickened, and he had to make a conscious effort to control it. Finally, moments away from bolting back to his common room, Tom knocked on the door.

It was a few moments before Dumbledore answered. After what seemed to Tom to be an eternity, the door swung open gently and Dumbledore's kind face appeared. Though Tom was standing right in front of his professor, he was not sure if Dumbledore had noticed him. The older man seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Tom wondered if something was troubling him. Deciding to bring Dumbledore back to reality, Tom spoke.

"Hello, Professor," Tom said, his voice as silky and unrevealing as always. Professor Dumbledore blinked, and his eyes refocused on Tom.

Tom thought he saw some emotion flash in the blue eyes now resting on him through the half-moon spectacles. Just for a moment, he'd thought he'd seen pain and longing. But the moment was past, and Dumbledore's icy blue stare seemed to see right through him.

He let his professor's gaze mesmerize him for a moment longer before setting himself back on track. After all, he hadn't come here to stare.

"Will you go out with me?"


	6. Poker Face

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or locations in this story.**

**WARNING: This story focuses on a man/man romantic relationship. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**

"Will you go out with me?" Tom's voice lacked its usual indifferent calm. Dumbledore froze and let Tom's words sink in. The first thing that Dumbledore felt was hope. However, it was quickly overlaid by dread. Dread that Tom would have to struggle with the same longing that he himself was fighting. Dread of what would happen if he was unable to control himself.

On instinct , Dumbledore opened his mouth to say yes. He forced it closed. If he said yes, his career and possibly Tom's chance for an education (which Dumbledore had worked so hard to ensure) would be ruined. Dumbledore knew, beneath all of his feelings, that he could not let that happen. Dumbledore took a deep breath and attempted to imitate the coolness he had so often seen Tom exhibit.

For a moment, Dumbledore considered explaining to Tom why he must decline his offer. However, he immediately dismissed the idea. If he told Tom how strongly he desired to enter the proposed relationship, he knew that Tom would be able to convince him to accept far too easily.

Acutely aware of Tom's anxious eyes on him, Dumbledore raised his head to meet Tom's desperate gaze. "I'm sorry Tom," Dumbledore's words caught in his throat, "but I'm not interested in that kind of relationship with you." Dumbledore's voice trembled with the lie. _I am, Tom, I promise!_ he thought.

"Of course. I understand," Tom replied, his voice shaking. He looked exactly how Dumbledore felt — confused and defeated. Tom stumbled out of the office.

"Tom..." Dumbledore was unable to resist calling after him, but the young man did not turn around. Dumbledore doubted whether Tom had heard him over the storm of emotions he new his student must be feeling. His head reeling, Dumbledore fell into his chair and rested his face in his hands.

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Tom stumbled out of Dumbledore's office, his mind strangely blank and his heart utterly empty. In a daze, Tom lost all awareness of where he was. When he re-surfaced, he found himself in the long, dimly lit corridors leading to the main Slytherin common room. With a jolt, he realized that he had come the wrong way. He was lost in the hallways.

Looking around him he noticed that the hallway he had entered had begun to slope drastically downwards. A feeling of foreboding overcame him — somehow, he knew that this was the rumored tunnel that lead directly to the Chamber of Secrets. While all the intelligence he possessed was telling him to get out, Tom felt strangely drawn to whatever lay at the end of the corridor. Going against everything he had ever been taught, Tom turned and continued down the hall.

At last, after following the steep slope downwards, Tom came to a dead end. Deciding to take a few moments to gather his thoughts, Tom sank down against the stone walls. He remembered Dumbledore's voice as he told him that he "wasn't interested". Anger boiled inside him. Tom jumped up and began to pace.

How indifferently Dumbledore had dismissed his dear request! Bitter disappointment surged through him until he felt as though he might explode. Whipping around, Tom faced the stone wall blocking his path. He raised his wand and spat the first incantation that came to his mind. "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

The wall exploded, with heavy, centuries-old stones flying everywhere. Tom stood unflinchingly as the curse sent the remnants of the wall careening towards him. When the debris had settled, Tom stepped forward. At first, all Tom could see was a black wall a few feet from where he stood. Then, he looked down.

Where the floor should have been, a tunnel of smooth, black rock led straight down. It reminded him of a steeper version of the tube-shaped slides he had seen on playgrounds in the muggle world. It stretched so far that he could not see the bottom. Looking up, Tom realized that the entrance he had just created must be located in the center of the tunnel, for all he could see of the top entrance was a faint glimmer of light.

He trained his eyes on the glow for a moment, surprised when it shifted. He realized that the light must be reflecting off of water. _So wherever the entrance is_, he thought, _it must be somewhere with water_. Suddenly, a huge shape loomed in front of him. Tom leaped back, but the creature hadn't noticed him. He watched as the long, scaly, dark green body slithered past him on its way up the tunnel.

A few moments later, he heard a strange hissing noise from above. It was followed by a more familiar sound - the voice of his fellow student, Myrtle.

"Go away!" Myrtle didn't sound scared. In fact, she sounded annoyed and upset, as though she had been crying. Tom guessed that Olive Hornby had been teasing her about her glasses again. The sound of a stall door opening wrenched Tom from his thoughts. The sound was followed by something that turned Tom's blood to ice.

A scream. And the sound of a body falling to the floor many stories above.


End file.
